


Enabling

by angerwasallihad



Series: Behind the Curtain [1]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Mother!ship, episode 302
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angerwasallihad/pseuds/angerwasallihad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sharon listened carefully as he spoke. There was always a part of her that fervently wished he’d never had to suffer through all the physical and emotional trauma he had experienced so early in life. That he’d never had to learn to drive with his mother shooting up in the back seat, getting beaten up weekly by that sorry excuse for a human being with whom Sharon Beck insisted on associating, being abandoned at a zoo and forced to improvise in order to survive. And now, after all that and the death threats and the violence of just a few months ago, he deserved something quiet, easy. Not this. </p>
<p>“But…but I don’t wanna be, um,” Rusty finally came around the table to look at Sharon as he spoke. “Dr. Joe would say—do you know what enabling means?”'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enabling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not even remotely mine. I promise to put my toys back where I found them when I’m finished.

“Wrong idea? About what?”

 

Sharon’s voice was light, completely without heat or accusation. But she was worried. The anxiety that had started when she had come home to an unexpectedly empty apartment last week had never really stopped. Rusty had been vague when they discussed it, visibly uncomfortable when she had tried to give him an opening without pushing him, and now there was this business with Provenza. In the intervening week since she had begun to understand that something was going on, her head had gone from moderate anxiety— _had he maybe met someone?_ To the prickling of fear— _was he spending time with someone or somewhere he shouldn’t?_ And finally, to all-out terror— _death threats, the flash of a knife, the gun cold and heavy in her hand_ — Sharon took a deep breath, pushing those last images back into the dark corners of her mind. She was overreacting. But whatever it was, it didn’t bode well. 

 

The number of conflicting emotions running through her head in the split second it took for Provenza and Rusty to respond to her sudden appearance took Sharon by surprise. It took all her finely honed skills to keep her expression open and neutral. 

 

Provenza looked supremely uncomfortable, which only served to increase Sharon’s anxiety. “Captain, for what you are about to hear, I apologize.” 

 

Sharon’s heart sank. This was looking less and less like it could conceivably be even remotely alright. She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way at Rusty. He looked as uncomfortable as Provenza. Was she really that intimidating? Sharon had thought they were past all that unfortunate failure to communicate that had plagued their relationship for so long. 

 

She inhaled deeply and waited. 

 

“Um. My Mom is here. Well, at a rehab, in Long Beach.”

 

Of all the things Sharon had expected, it was _not_ that. Her face fell for a moment as she took in what he was saying. Her face had morphed into an expression of deep concern. Was he alright with all of this? Suddenly his recent behavior made complete sense. Her immediate concern for him was real, but at the same time, there was a small voice in the back of her mind whispering, _is this it, then? The day he slowly drifts away, consumed again by his mother’s addiction?_

 

“And, I didn’t tell you about it, and I should have, and I’m sorry.” 

 

Sharon looked away from him for a moment, taking everything in, trying to get over her initial shock and reign in the storm raging behind her expression. 

 

“But Sharon—“

 

She took another deep breath and looked back up at Rusty, interrupting his rambling and grasping at that one glimmer of hope. “Your mother is in rehab.” She spoke with her usual calm, adopting the most supportive demeanor she could muster, banishing those doubtful whispers in her head, holding tight to the thought that maybe this time… 

 

“And you have gone to see her there?” She spoke slowly, doing her best to keep the conversation open and completely comfortable for Rusty. Well, as comfortable as such an awkward conversation could be.

 

“A couple times.”

 

Sharon’s eyes widened. _A couple of times?_ How often was he going places without telling her? And what sort of shape was his mother in? Was it really a good idea for him to be seeing her unsupervised? Her mind began going in a thousand different directions, all of them laced with concern over this entire situation and even some fear and guilt at how easy it seemed to be for Rusty to keep things from her. Her eyes only betrayed the fear and anxiety for a moment however, her face quickly reverting to what she hoped was an open and understanding expression. 

 

“B-but listen, listen. She, she wants to make amends to people. Me, you, everyone really. As a part of her recovery…”

 

Sharon looked away from Rusty again, this time meeting Lieutenant Provenza’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for from him. Reassurance? Guidance? Some sort of answer? As much as Sharon hated to admit it, she didn’t have the answer here. And she hated not having the answer. It was terrifying, being thrown into this situation without a set of rules with clear rights and wrongs. But that was one of those things that made all this worth it, she reminded herself. Discovering the answers to those questions that weren’t all black and white. 

 

The Lieutenant shrugged uncertainly and Sharon looked back at Rusty as he continued to speak. 

 

“And if you don’t mind, Lieutenant Provenza and I could go, and we could pick her up right now and bring her here, and she could apologize, just to get that over and out of the way.” 

 

Sharon blinked at his words. Here? Today? She wasn’t sure that was really the best idea. She brought a hand up to her forehead for a moment, a sure sign of the stress and emotional uncertainty she was feeling. 

 

“It’ll only take a few minutes. But, um, I completely understand if you don’t want to.”

 

She could tell by the way he was speaking that this was really important to him. And it was important, she knew, for Rusty’s mother to work the steps. However Sharon felt about the woman, Rusty loved her and Sharon knew that he at least deserved her support and understanding in this. And of course, she did want to meet this Other Sharon. She just wished she might have had a little more warning…

 

“It’s not a problem at all.” She smiled at him in the most genuine way she could. “I’m, uh, I am very surprised, of course,” she shot the Lieutenant a look that made it clear that he was not off the hook yet. Now that she had gotten over her initial shock a bit, she couldn’t hide her displeasure at being kept out of the loop on something this important. “But,” she smiled back at Rusty with a brave attempt at real joy. “I am looking forward to meeting the other Sharon in your life. And I’m glad that she’s in rehab, Rusty.” She looked at him in reassurance again, reminding herself with those last words that this _was_ a good thing. 

 

Rusty looked back at her, seeming a little surprised and uncertain at her reaction. “So… so bring her? Now?”

 

Sharon nodded slowly, a glimmer of uncertainty flashing across her eyes. “If you can, that would be good.” 

 

***

 

The condo was dark when she finally opened the door that night. Sharon had had to stay longer than anticipated. She wished she could have gotten away sooner after all the excitement with Sharon Beck and Rusty, but it had just been impossible. It was already 9:30 pm and she was starving. All they’d had in the Murder Room that night was pizza, and however much Rusty and the rest of the squad enjoyed it, it just didn’t quite do it for her. 

 

She stepped out of her shoes the moment she crossed the threshold and dropped her keys and bag heavily on the side table, walking barefoot into the apartment, turning on a few lamps as she made her way to the kitchen. With a little smile of surprise, she immediately saw an as-yet empty wine glass next to a foil-covered plate waiting for her on the stove. There was a short note in untidy handwriting next to the plate. 

 

_Goodnight Sharon._

_Thank you._

_There’s some strawberries in the fridge and I got you some peanut butter on the way home._

_-R_

 

Sharon set the note aside, laughing softly to herself. That strange combination of sweet and salty was quickly becoming almost an inside joke between the two of them, a guilty pleasure which she finally had someone with whom to share it. She peeled back the foil to see what Rusty had left her and grinned. An omelette. Just the way she liked it, with spinach and mushrooms and cheese and the tiniest bit of bacon. That was definitely better than pizza. 

 

Sharon popped the plate in the microwave for a few seconds, pouring herself a glass of white wine from the fridge while she waited, then taking everything to the bar and eating in silence. She was feeling a little troubled by how guilty Rusty seemed to be feeling. She would, of course, have liked a little more warning about this recent situation. However, she sensed that there was more to it than simple guilt. As complicated as it felt for her, she knew it was infinitely more difficult for Rusty. She hoped that he might feel comfortable discussing it with her soon.

 

By the time Sharon had finished dinner and indulged in a little bit of strawberries and peanut butter as Rusty had suggested, it was late, after 10 pm. As she turned off the lights and headed back to her room, she saw that the light was still on in Rusty’s room across the hall. She stood in front of the door for a moment, still barefoot. She raised her fist to knock softly, then immediately lowered it before it touched the door. She shifted from foot to foot for a moment, then leaned her head against the wood before her, listening carefully and savoring the quiet after her chaotic day. She heard a small rustle of movement behind the door, then the thin strip of light on the hall floor at her feet disappeared. She stepped back from the door. Her hand came up once more and she reached out to bring her fingertips softly against the wood. Her fingers met the door, lingering for just a moment. Then she turned away, back to her own bedroom, her hand trailing behind her. 

 

***

 

“How was the ride home yesterday with your Mother?” 

 

Sharon spoke with as much nonchalance as she could manage, determinedly looking down at the paperwork in front of her but not really seeing it. 

 

“It was fine, I guess.” 

 

Sharon glanced up in surprise. His tone didn’t suggest he was shutting her down, which was unexpected, but a completely welcome surprise. “Good,” she said softly, nodding. She still wasn’t looking directly at him for fear of scaring away this new openness. 

 

“I dunno, I mean I was upset…but I didn’t tell her.” 

 

Sharon smiled tightly, beating down her own feelings about this woman proven herself nearly as incapable of parenting as that dreadful Daniel Dunn. But she was waiting, just as she had with Rusty’s father. Because this was about Rusty and what he needed. Not her desire to give Sharon Beck her just desserts. 

 

“Why not?” Her tone was still light as she made to continue with her paperwork. 

 

“Just so you know, I definitely want to be there for her, if she’s going to stop using drugs.” 

 

Sharon listened carefully as he spoke. There was always a part of her that fervently wished he’d never had to suffer through all the physical and emotional trauma he had experienced so early in life. That he’d never had to learn to drive with his mother shooting up in the back seat, getting beaten up weekly by that sorry excuse for a human being with whom Sharon Beck insisted on associating, being abandoned at a zoo and forced to improvise in order to survive. And now, after all that and the death threats and the violence of just a few months ago, he deserved something quiet, easy. Not this. 

 

“But…but I don’t wanna be, um,” Rusty finally came around the table to look at Sharon as he spoke. “Dr. Joe would say—do you know what enabling means?”

 

_“Ricky, what are you doing after school today?”_

 

_Sharon called up the stairs to him from the laundry room in the basement, pulling down Beth’s leotard and tights from where they were hanging over the washing machine, folding them carefully and placing them in her daughter’s bag with her shoes and hair things._

 

_“I dunno, Mom” Ricky’s voice floated down to her from the kitchen. “Can’t I just come home?”_

 

_Sharon trudged up the stairs with Beth’s ballet bag in hand, finding her older child perched on a stool in the kitchen, skinny legs dangling as he ate some cereal. “No, honey,” she sighed. “You’re not old enough to be here by yourself. You know that.”_

 

_Ricky puffed out his chest indignantly. “I’m nine! I’m not that little!”_

 

_Sharon chuckled a little and reached out to ruffle his hair. “It’s little enough.” She put the ballet bag on the counter and reached for her abandoned cup of tea. “You know the drill. You can come with your sister and me to ballet, or you can go over to Mrs. Livingston’s down the street. Your choice.”_

 

_Ricky looked down at his cereal morosely and sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll go to Mrs. L’s. Better than all those girls in pink. yuck!”_

 

_Sharon smiled over her teacup at him. “You come right out after school, and she’ll pick you up.” She put down her cup and looked around. “Now where is your sister? It’s almost time to go.”_

 

_Ricky shrugged._

 

_Sighing, Sharon went out into the hall and called up the stairs, “Beth! Let’s go!” There was a loud thump, then a scuffle as her daughter came flying down the stairs._

 

_“Mommy, did you clean my leotard?”_

 

_“It’s in here, honey. Sit down and eat for a second.” She lead her daughter into the kitchen, briefly stopping to help her climb onto a stool next to her brother. Sharon pulled a hairbrush out of the bag on the counter beside them and began pulling back her younger child’s hair as Beth ate._

 

_When she finished Beth’s hair and the kids seemed to have finished breakfast, she gathered their bowls and put them in the sink. “Alright, everybody. Let’s go.” They made it across the room to the back door, Beth chattering away, Ricky resolutely ignoring her, and Sharon trying to hold onto everything at once. When they reached the door, she shifted her bag, still hot mug of tea and Beth’s dance bag all onto her left arm and pulled open the door._

 

_“Daddy!”_

 

_Sharon heard Beth’s excited shriek before she saw the cause, then stopped dead. Jack was standing just outside the door, looking shocked to see the flurry of activity that had just tumbled out of it. Beth had thrown her tiny body at his legs, clutching them tightly._

 

_“Hi there, princess,” Jack looked down at his daughter hugging him tightly and carefully extricated her, patting her quickly on the head. “What’s all this? Going somewhere?” He pointedly avoided Sharon’s eyes, addressing his daughter._

 

_“School, Dad. Duh.” Ricky pushed past his father and his sister to the car, not looking at Jack._

 

_“Oh. Right. Well, see you later then.” Jack laughed a little uncomfortably and finally looked over at Sharon._

 

_She was over her initial shock now, but just walked past him without a word, arms still full. “Come on, Beth. We’ve got to get to school. You can see your father later. I’m sure he’ll still be here when you get home.” She turned back to Jack still standing at the back door behind her and shot him a look that clearly communicated the sort of trouble he would be in if he made her a liar. Then she dumped the contents of her arms into the passenger seat, checked to make sure both the children were safely buckled, and rounded the car. She got in and pulled away without a word to Jack._

 

_It was dark when she got home that night. Beth had fallen asleep in the back and Ricky was staring quietly out the window as they pulled into the drive. Jack’s car was still there. “Ricky,” she said slowly as she turned off the car and turned back to look at him in the back seat, “it’s late. So I want you to go straight upstairs with your sister and start getting ready for bed. No arguments.” Ricky opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but closed it at her last words and quietly got out of the car._

 

_Sharon got out too, pulling her purse over her shoulder as she went. She opened the back door and reached over her still sleeping daughter to unbuckle her. Beth, at six years old was too big now for Sharon to carry all the way to the house, so she gently woke her and half dragged the yawning child back into the house. When they reached the kitchen, Ricky took Beth’s hand and lead her down the hall to the stairs. “I’ll be up there in a minute, okay?” she called softly after them._

 

_There was movement in the corner of her eye and she saw Jack enter the kitchen from the living room, avoiding his children in the hall. Sharon sighed heavily and turned toward him, lifting her bag onto the counter and removing her gun. She dismantled it as they stood in silence, dumping the rounds from her revolver into a drawer and replacing the weapon in the bottom of her purse. She leaned heavily on the surface before her, head bowed._

 

_Finally, she whispered, “What are you doing here, Jack?”_

 

_There was silence for a time. Then—_

 

_“Well I was in town. Thought I’d come by.”_

 

_Sharon straightened, looking him in the eyes again. He had crossed the room now, and stood just a few feet from her, giving her that signature lopsided grin._

 

_“You’ve been gone for over a year.” She spoke slowly, in a soft and measured tone. “You don’t call, you don’t write. What do you want?”_

 

_Jack’s smile finally faltered at her tone. “Well, things aren’t going so well. And I thought maybe I could stay here for a couple of days while I figure things out.” To his credit, he looked uncomfortable._

 

_Sharon considered him for a moment. He did look a little worse for wear. His shirt didn’t look clean and there were new lines on his face. “Are you drinking, Jack?”_

 

_His head snapped up. “No. I swear, Sharon. Not for a year, since you got me into rehab.”_

 

_She relaxed a little. “Alright. You may stay on the fold-out for a few days, Jack. But no more than four days.”_

 

_Jack’s face broke into a smile. “Aww thanks, Sharon. But the couch? Really?”_

 

_Sharon looked at him. “No. Don’t even start.” She glanced up at the ceiling instinctively. “I need to go put Ricky and Beth to bed. This discussion is not over.”_

 

_She moved away, down the hall tothe stairs. When she reached the top of the stairs, she could see Ricky helping Beth brush her teeth in the bathroom down the hall, both in their pajamas already. She came up behind them at the sink and smiled at them in the mirror._

 

_They both turned to her and showed her their newly clean teeth. “Very nice. Now off to bed, both of you.” She guided them down the hall into their respective bedrooms._

 

_Twenty minutes later, she finally made it back down to deal with Jack._

 

_“Alright, Jack. Let’s hear it.” They were in the living room now, sitting across from each other around the coffee table. “What’s the problem?”_

 

_Jack grimaced a little, but finally began to speak. “Things haven’t been so good, Shar. I had a couple cases go downhill and made a bad investment.”_

 

_Sharon sighed. She’d known it was money from the moment she’d seen him this morning, but still hadn’t quite decided what to do about it. Jack had appeared unannounced on her doorstep exactly twice before in the two and a half years since she’d put in the paperwork for legal separation. The first time he’d appeared it had been in anger and frustration at the legal measures she had taken against him. The second, he’d been drunk and completely irrational. That time she’d forced him across town to a rehab facility which she had paid for. It seemed to have worked. And yet here he was again._

 

_She regarded him carefully again as he continued to ramble on about just needing to pay off some debt and then he’d be in the clear. She wasn’t listening very attentively. As Sharon saw it, she had two options. She could cut him off and probably never see him again, or she could give him a helping hand and at least know where he was for a short time. The former was appealing. But then she remembered that look of pure joy on her daughter’s face when Jack had appeared that morning. If she cut him off, she’d never see him again. She was almost sure of that. And she just couldn’t live with that._

 

_She stood up now as Jack finally trailed off, walking to the desk in the corner of the room and pulling out her checkbook. “How much, Jack?” She didn’t look at him as she sat down and removed a pen from the drawer._

 

_“Fifty-two hundred.”_

 

_Sharon finally looked back up at him in shock. “Jack.”_

 

_He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He just shrugged sheepishly. “I told you, Shar. Things have been bad lately.”_

 

_She picked up the pen and began writing the check. “I’ll give you the money, Jack. But I need something from you.” She tore out the check and walked back over to him. He reached out to take it, but she didn’t let go. “Beth has a ballet recital on Saturday. You will be there. And,” she thought for a moment. “A working phone number and address.”_

 

_Jack blinked at her in surprise, then nodded. She let go._

 

“Oh, yeah.” Sharon smiled. There was a time when she had been the Queen Enabler. She pushed the memory back and focused on Rusty again. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, she never would have told me that she was sentenced to rehab if you hadn’t asked. And I’m definitely never living with her again. Or being her, like, babysitter, if that’s what she’s planning.”

 

Sharon nodded, but remained silent. This was one of those times, she knew, when Rusty just needed her to listen. The fact that he was talking about it mostly unprompted didn’t escape her. There was a time when her asking him casually about his mother would have made him lash out. But now he was just standing there, telling her how he felt. So she kept her mouth shut.There were so many things she wanted to say, but knew they weren’t helpful or even remotely what Rusty wanted to hear. And honestly, from what Rusty was saying, it didn’t seem like she needed to say anything. 

 

“And, she asked me if I wanted to go and visit her again this weekend.”

 

Sharon turned to him at those words, abandoning all pretense with the papers before her. “And you don’t want to go?” Her tone was still even and casual, letting Rusty steer the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was let on any of the less-than-positive feelings she had for Sharon Beck, particularly to Rusty. She was treading carefully. 

 

“I mean, I do…” Rusty came back around the table to face her. “But how do I have a relationship with her where she can’t make her using or not using about me, anyway?” 

 

She nodded thoughtfully. He was asking her about this. Rusty was bringing her into this situation willfully, including her in his thought process. Which meant she could be involved, right? Well, she had become involved the moment Sharon Beck had come into the office yesterday. Even before that. And Rusty was asking, so that had to mean she was being invited into this situation, Sharon reasoned. It wasn’t pushing him one way or another if he was asking. 

 

“Well, I could go with you.” 

 

Rusty’s eyes snapped back to hers, and she was touched to see that flash of hope in his face, quickly replaced by disbelief. 

 

“No.” He shook his head adamantly. “No, you don’t wanna do that.” 

 

“I think I _do.”_ Sharon countered his disbelief with equally adamant words. 

 

“Really?” Rusty still didn’t look convinced. 

 

“Really. I would like to make my own evaluation. Maybe I can help steer the conversation in the right direction.” She looked at him hopefully. She really would rather be supervising these visits now that she knew what was going on. She had an obligation to make sure this other Sharon was in a good place. And Rusty had asked for her opinion. Honestly, it seemed like a solution that would make them both feel a little better, even with the initial awkwardness. 

 

“Sharon, that—that would be great,” he relented. “But… I don’t want to put you out.” Rusty still looked a little unsure. “I mean, any more than I have over the last two years.”

 

Sharon sighed. That again. It was almost painful to her how Rusty never seemed to be able to comprehend that he didn’t owe everyone for anything he received. The thought that he had lived in a world where everything came with a price was like a knife to the gut each time the issue came up. 

 

“I already don’t know how I’m going to pay you back for everything.”

 

“Rusty, I’ve told you a hundred times…” 

 

Rusty cut her off. “I know, I know. Graduate and go to college. But Sharon, there has got to be something in all of this for you, too.” 

 

Sharon smiled a little tearfully. Images flashed before her eyes now. Rusty, making her breakfast after she’d pulled an all-nighter in the Murder Room. That look on his face the first time he’d told her he loved her. The way he’d smiled in triumph when she’d seen him win that chess tournament a few months ago. The warm feeling in her chest when she saw him smile at her from across the room. 

 

“There is.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I cut out the last couple of lines of that scene, but that’s just how I roll. For those curious about things: the strawberries and peanut butter thing originated in my one shot from a while ago called “Comfort.” Go check it out if you want a full explanation. The second thing is the revolver that Sharon carries in the flashback may be confusing; I envision that flash happening in the late 80s, when police still carried revolvers rather than the more modern service weapon we see her with today (I may be from Texas but I know absolutely nothing about guns, and had to do some last-minute asking around).


End file.
